


Fifty Percent Off

by AndeliaMaddock



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Arguing, Coercion, Fluff, Gentle touches, Hatesex, Infidelity, Kisses, Love, M/M, NOT RAPE, Not non-con, Open Relationships, Rough anal, a lot of rough violent sex though, business puns, dubcon, hurt comfort, moments of hesitation before people fully decide yes they will do this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7823914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndeliaMaddock/pseuds/AndeliaMaddock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pierre and Morris have a bitter sort of rivalry. They always try to get one over on the other. When the farmer arrives and buys a Joja Membership, things come to a head, and go a bit too far between Morris and Pierre.</p><p>They can't stop. They fight, until one of them eventually has to win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: I'm not sure if this is for dragon mod or not since it's technically infidelity. but can you do Pierre and Morris having Hate sex at Joja Mart? 
> 
> I honestly didn't expect this to be 1) so hot for me and 2) to go on for so many pages. But here we are, two days later, and I'm absolutely done with this series and so thankful for that fact.

Any reasonable store owner or 'manager' as Morris called it, would be early. But Morris still hadn't arrived, not even just fifty minutes before his store was to be open.

Pierre scoffed and leaned up against the glass door. What a cheap guy. Couldn't even come to work early. He probably expected overtime if he did. Disgusting.

And what about Pierre? He worked overtime, and still got beans compared to Joja. Companies like this ruined the world.

The door opened, and he fell backwards onto his ass and back. He wasn't old, exactly, but that didn't feel good.

Morris stared down at him with a smirk and a sinfully arched brow. Arms crossed, and Morris tapped one leather boot on the immaculate tiles. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Y-you weren't here! I waited!” He blustered and scrambled to turn over onto his hands and knees. Middle age quickly got the best of him this decade though, and his bones creaked just a bit as he did.

The glass doors attempted to shut on him, and he grunted and lunged forward, and barely managed to stand.

Morris and him stood chest to chest. Morris gave no ground. Arms uncrossed, and he put them on Pierre's shoulders and shook his head. “How sad. Where did you think I lived? You live in your... quaint little convenience store--”

“General store!”

“And I live here. Back there.” He hitched a thumb over his own shoulder and tipped his head just a little bit in the direction. “Were you hoping to catch me as I got to work? Just how desperate are you to show me up?”

“I'm... I'm not!”

Morris sighed and turned about. “I have inventory to do, if you don't mind.”

“I thought you paid your slave wages to Shane and Sam to do that.”

Morris chuckled. “Better wages than you could afford. But yes, I do. And they're not very good at it. Honestly? I'd prefer to fire them and hire some of Joja's own, but they're trying to do 'Community Outreach' and keep people local.” He grinned over at Pierre. “But that's just between us managers. Or, should I call you a store owner? You must be... so proud.”

Pierre stomped forward. “Now you listen to me!”

Morris turned about, and his coat flared out a bit. “What is it?”

“You come into my store, you talk about your Memberships to my customers, you promise to tear down the Community Center, and what? You think you can just get away with it?” He was so near now, his body up against Morris', his mouth turned down into a heavy sneer. “It's disgusting. You're so corrupt--”

“Try to tear it down?” Morris smiled wide. “Oh, you hadn't heard the news? Last night, I got my very last required Joja Membership, bought by one of your very own farmers. I'm well on my way to making it official. That center is as good as a Joja Warehouse.”

“Y-you what?”

“Well, it turns out, they don't want to have to buy from you. They'd rather take their business to me. Open later. Open every day. It's no wonder.”

“H-how dare you? You steal from local businesses, you ruin everything!” He didn't mean to make the first swing. 

Morris stepped back, and another step. He blinked once, then reached an unsteady hand up and felt at his lip. Split. A bit bloody. “How dare I? How dare you?”

Regret and guilt almost flooded him, but then he saw that nasty little smirk coil its way over Morris' lips and Pierre knew he didn't care one way or another. “You deserve it.”

“Oh, do I? You'll fight me in my own store?”

“I will.” He took a step forward.

“The entire community is with me, you know. Almost everyone bought a membership. I'll have a warehouse here now. The mayor is working with me. How well do you think this will turn out for you?”

“I don't care!” He reached back to give another swing.

Morris ducked swiftly to the side. He was a bit wider, but also a bit more quick it seemed. “I did warn you not to.” He shrugged, and swung his own fist right smack into Pierre's mouth.

Pierre felt the blood slip from his own split lip, but he didn't react. He just spit, and moved back into a fighting stance. 

“What will your town think of you? You're attacking me for no reason. They won't agree with you.”

“You started it!”

“By what? Being in my own store? You came here, attacked me, and what? I'm to just let you win?” Morris dodged another punch. “Face it, Pierre. You lost. You're nothing. Maybe... maybe we could come to an agreement though.”

“I'll never agree to anything from you!” He lunged forward, and brought Morris down in a tackle.

Morris grit his teeth, and brought his fist into Pierre's stomach. Then rolled them both over, and pinned Pierre to the tiles. “I can make this over quickly. You can just go. Be pathetic in your little hovel of a store and 'home'.”

Pierre brought his knee up, and tried to get Morris between the legs.

“That's dirty.” Morris closed his legs tighter, and managed to keep the blow from doing too much damage to his most sensitive parts.

“Coming from you!” He headbutt the raven haired manager.

Morris growled, and pulled back. “I've had about enough of you.” 

Pierre stilled. He could feel it now, with Morris pressed so close to his body. Morris had a reaction to this all. Brown eyes widened, and Pierre renewed his struggles under Morris. But all the talk had killed his will to fight, really.

That, and his own length hardened in kind.

Morris narrowed his eyes. “Oh. Is that maybe why you showed up in the first place? I didn't take you for the sort.” He chuckled. “Perhaps I misjudged?”

“No! I'm not the sort, I love my wife.” 

“And yet here you are, so very physical. A bit of slap and tickle, is that what you want? If you just wanted a taste of me, all you had to do was ask.”

“That's the last thing I wanted.”

“Past tense. So what, now you want it?” Morris ground his heavy hips down onto Pierre, and their lengths dangerously rubbed against one another through the fabric.

“I didn't say that.” He could fight Morris off, easy. He'd been a boxer in school. He could do this. But they were on the ground. And he wasn't much on wrestling. Pierre spread his legs, and tried to get a little bit of an angle, something to help him lift up, and push Morris off.

“Just say the word. If I like it well enough, I may even stop giving such good coupons to all my customers. You know... in the interest of... shall we say,” he leaned in and whispered at Pierre's ear, “preserving community and fostering local economy? I'm sure there's more than enough room in this village for both of us.” Every other word he punctuated with a grind of his pelvis down against Pierre.

Save his business. Go against a turning tide, fight a little less now in interest of preserving his energy for the future when he would absolutely wreck Morris and take back the title as the one and only owner and manager of the only store in town. 

Pierre didn't want to say yes. To accept defeat in any battle wasn't something he wanted. But here was an offer. He swallowed more than just pride, and nodded.

“What's that?” Morris tilted his head and cupped at his ear, while his gaze remained fixed on Pierre. That smug bastard.

“Fine. I'll.” He rubbed himself up against Morris. It was the opposite of hedonistic, and yet he felt that tug.

“Oh, you'll?” Morris smirked and ground down in response. “Well, whatever that is, I'm glad we've come to an agreement.” He began to roll off Pierre and bring himself to a standing position. “And as much as I would love to grind you into the tiles, I'm afraid that might mess them up more than you already have. And I can't have my store looking anything but perfect.”

“I've seen hospitals less sterile and uninviting.”

“Sterile and clean things would be uninviting to a bacteria like you. But.” He tidied his bowtie, and turned. “Why don't we go back to my room, hmm? I'm sure we can discuss business arrangements there.”

Business arrangements.

Pierre found himself cringing again at the creaks in his body. But he stood. And followed. What else could he do? Resigned, his shoulders slumped just a bit. But no! No! Pierre took a readying breath, held his shoulders out, and tilted his head back. He could do this and still have pride.

How, he wasn't sure. But as long as Caroline never had to find out...

The room was plain. Blue trim and white walls, to match the corporate color scheme.

Pierre arched a brow when he saw the cola machine. “Do you even drink this stuff?”

“No, but sometimes I like to give Sam one as a treat when he actually does his job correctly. He's such a good boy when he tries.”

The tone, the implications. No. No, there was literally no way that was happening. Morris just always had a terrible tone. Full of innuendo and rich with double entendres, even when it wasn't really there in intent. That was just one more reason Pierre hated Morris. 

“Have a seat.” Morris flourished his arm towards one corner. There was only a bed, and a tiny chair in front of a desk, stacked with neatly organized papers in little mesh baskets.

Pierre considered his options, and picked the chair. It creaked, but held his weight just fine. No surprise there.

Morris' displeasure read itself plainly over his features. He adjusted his circular lenses and strode over with clear authority. “If I didn't make it clear enough, I meant on my bed.” 

Pierre glanced at a paper in one of the mesh 'Out' baskets. Joja Membership Form 54365. Then he returned his attention back to Morris and offered an almost charming smile. “Oh, I didn't realize. I thought here might be fine, since we're just talking business.”

Morris' eye twitched a little, and he cracked fingers, fingers, thumb, thumb. “I hadn't meant to only talk business. I thought you understood that.”

“Oh, what did you want to talk about?” I'm just a poor country yahoo who doesn't know a thing about explicit business dealings and intents. He smiled a bit wider.

Morris apparently caught on, and he offered a chuckle in return. “I see, I see. Being stupid is so normal in your routine, I was a bit taken aback to see you just playing it.”

The smile cracked, and Pierre stood. “Now you listen--”

“Ahh.” Morris put a palm on Pierre's finger, and pressed it down. One arm caught the brunette by the shoulder, and guided him towards the bed. “We've only 33 minutes before Shane comes by. He's surprisingly never tardy.”

He could leave. He could leave. There was absolutely nothing stopping him from just bolting.

Pierre didn't slump. He wouldn't let his body show anything other than total control.

Morris sat beside him. One bold, soft hand stroked along Pierre's thigh. “Ah, you're strong enough in your punches. But you could do to take a few classes with your wife every week.”

He grunted, and grabbed hard at Morris'. “And you're one to talk.”

“No, I'm not I suppose. But I do have a type normally. It's just so hard to keep your standards as high as mine when you're in a small little place like this.” He reached that exploratory hand up, and pushed Pierre back. “You'll do.”

“You were hard before I was.”

“And yet, you're still hard.” Morris moved over him, and once more his body weighed heavily on Pierre.

This time, at least, the mattress helped displace some of the discomfort. Pierre breathed out, a hiss against Morris neck. “And you're such a catch, everyone in town is just clamoring for you.”

Morris chuckled against his neck, then bit, just a little, under his jacket collar. 

“If Caroline sees--”

“Don't worry.” Morris was quick to press a palm to Pierre's mouth. “I won't mark you. I just like samples before I try the whole thing. You're remarkably sensitive. That bodes well.”

He hated Morris, past, present, and future. But the touches were a type of nice. Rough, yet sensual in the same pass. Hands groped and guided, and he felt himself breath a bit heavier at their administrations. “I'm hardly sensitive.”

“Oh, then I'm just very good at this. I can work with either. But you can't deny the physical effects.” Morris nibbled at one ear lobe. “I'd love to tease and torture you all day, but some of us have a lot of work to do. On your day off.”

Pierre did have a lot of work to do. But he kept that in. He just spread his legs, just enough to goad the other on. “Then do it.”

Morris chuckled and loosened his belt. “As you wish.”

He didn't expect such quick motions from the other, but soon enough, he was flipped over, with his pants at his ankles, and a lubed cock right up against his ass. Pierre didn't resist. He tried to relax, to let it happen. 

Morris tugged hard at Pierre's hips and all but forced Pierre back onto his cock. “Even easier entry than I expected.”

It didn't hurt so much as stretch places he hadn't used like this in years. Many years. Pierre grappled with the sheets, and pulled forward a bit with a few heavy pants. “Easy?”

“Well, for me. I suppose it's like when I first came here.” He pressed in once more. “The town barely resisted my presence, except for you.” Foreign trousers pressed to Pierre's ass. “But I've never much minded your resistance.”

He smirked. “You're not even threatened by me, are you? Corporate manager, you just do whatever you want. No consequences.”

“Oh, that's right.” Morris worked harder. “I'm within my full rights to do as I please here, under Joja's gracious corporate arm.”

He grunted, and pressed his forehead to the sheets. His knees were on the floor, and his torso over the bed. Every thrust worked him harder into the mattress, and burned at his worn knees a little bit more. “They wouldn't like it so much if my profits matched, or overtook yours.”

“Oh, no, that might get a bit of...” Morris slapped a palm against Pierre's ass. “Discipline. But that's never happened in all my years with Joja. I always win.”

The hit struck more than a few cords. He reached down, and jerked at his own cock. He'd leave a few traces for Morris to make immaculate later. Or stains for the bastard to remember him by.

“But you don't have to see me as someone who want's to run you out of business.” Morris pressed deep. “I can work with businesses too. Keep things where everyone gets what they need.” He whispered at Pierre's ear. “And as much as I love talking business with you now that you're more, shall we say, amenable to Joja Corporation and its subsidiaries, I do have a business to manage. And only 18 more minutes before Shane arrives. So let's hurry this along, shall we?” He clutched hard enough to leave a bruise at Pierre's hips, and began a much more invigorating pace.

Maybe he did need to start working out with Caroline. Pierre could practically see stars with how hard the other went, and still Morris didn't relent. Heavy breaths escaped an open mouth, and Pierre kept the whimpers to himself, turned into nothing but gasps and pants.

“It's alright to be loud. This isn't that charming little 'museum' of yours. There's no need to keep quiet.” He slapped Pierre's ass once more, on the opposite cheek.

That got a low, shameful moan. Pierre glared over his jacket collar at Morris. “Keep it up like that, and you'll get more than you asked for.”

“Yet, you moan and jerk yourself all the same.” Morris slapped again. “I think perhaps you enjoy it. I'm only teaching you your rightful place in this economy. Beneath Joja.”

He returned his glare to the wall. White wasn't calming, neither was blue, after Joja came to town. But it was nicer to look at than that jackass. Pierre pressed his lips together and just focused on release. Stain the sheets. Make Morris remember that Pierre was here, and Pierre was the one who had the last laugh.

Morris' throat turned the pants and huffs pitchy. Moans began to escape, and he redoubled his pace. Still, those pants mostly remained up, and the material pressed against Pierre's raw backside on every thrust. Like the snap of a shaken pop can, Morris filled Pierre, and sighed. He slumped down a bit, and tucked himself back in.

By the time Pierre finished himself off and turned to look, Morris already stood tall over the other, and smiled down. As if nothing happened. “I told you at the beginning, but I'm glad you finally understand. If you just join us, you can thrive.”

Pierre swallowed his everything, and just nodded. Unsteady legs brought him up to Morris' level, and a bit taller. He slowly, leisurely, tugged his pants up. “Where'd you toss my belt?”

Morris was already turned towards the door. He glanced at his watch and sighed. “Over there somewhere. Just hurry up will you? I hate to be late.”

Pierre grinned. He understood the sentiment. “For being early?”

“You'd understand if you were me.” Morris rapped his fingers on the door knob.

Over there, but he'd already found it when Morris hadn't been looking. He tucked it through the loops, and zipped his jacket up tight. He turned away from the desk with a smile. 

Once Pierre reached the door, fully dressed, Morris paused, and seemed to relax just a little. A sly smirk slid over his round features and he gazed up and down at Pierre. “Come by tonight. We can do a little overtime together.”

“That doesn't sound like a question.”

“You're learning fast.” Morris opened the door, and gestured for Pierre to exit first.

Down the steps, he moved quickly, right up to the front of the store.

Morris moved behind his front counter, and smiled with that same placid smile he always had when Pierre would peer in to see what was going on inside.

Shane entered, just as Pierre left.

When he was finally home, he hid himself away in his room, and locked the door. On the bed, he unzipped his jacket, and stared down at the thick envelope with that new farmer's Joja Membership Application. 

If Morris had no proof, the mayor would have no choice but to not sell the Community Center.

Now all he had to do was convince the farmer that they didn't truly want to become a Joja Member. Half price rates for a few seasons worth of seeds would likely do the trick. Plus, he had a full 5000G he could pay them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get more intense between Morris and Pierre.

“How dare you come by here after what you pulled?” Morris tapped his fingers along the counter. He seemed to want to do a lot more with those hands, but he held his ground behind the counter.

“I thought you wanted me to drop by later.” Pierre hitched his thumbs in his jeans and offered an easy smile. “Isn't that what you said? We could restock some shelves?”

“You stole from me.”

“I gave back to the community. Call it 'Community Outreach' if you want.” He shrugged. “It's not worse than what you've done to the mountains, and to the ponds and lakes nearby. If anything, I helped.”

Morris inhaled rather audibly, and straightened up his posture. “If you say so. But consider this. You've annoyed me far more than you have in the past.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, I annoyed you?” He stepped closer. “So you heard the farmer's not interested anymore, and Mayor isn't going to sell?

“I heard something like that.” Morris glanced to his watch, then smirked and flipped the switch under the counter. Lights throughout the store flipped out, until only a dim one buzzed above Morris' head. It bathed him in just enough light to let the shadows dance more menacingly than usual. “Closing time. I have to ask that all customers and non-employees please vacate the premises. Unless, of course, you'd like to stay. I'm sure I could put you to work in some way or another.”

He stayed right where he was, in the middle of the doorway. He had no intention to step forward. “I don't think that'll happen again.”

“If you're certain. Please, vacate the premises. Joja Corporation code indicates--”

“I don't care.” He turned on heel, and strut out. The doors swished shut behind him, and locked into place.

He didn't stop until the dim glow of Joja light no longer washed over him or any of the ground he walked on.

Then, he crouched down and rested with palms on knees. It was too busy of a day. 

\--~~--

“Fifty percent off coupons! Come on down to Joja Mart!” Morris waved those coupons like a desperate cheerleader with her pompoms, ready to bring a team back from a loosing streak.

Pierre wasn't nervous, no. But if he happened to be unable to keep from confessing to the farmer that he couldn't beat those prices, well. Sometimes things happened. He had a very stressful job, and he couldn't keep everything in.

They commiserated with him. By the time they left, he felt a lot of the stress leave too.

But not enough. 

Pierre returned to the dreaded store that night, and rapped on the door.

Morris pressed a button under his counter, and the doors unlocked. Morris remained exactly where he was. “Hello, Pierre.”

“Fifty percent off? There's no way you can afford those prices.”

“No, I think you're projecting. See, I can afford a few fifty percent off coupons in my store, because we're part of a larger picture. We see the whole world, and we supply to everyone. You, my poor misguided friend, do not serve the whole world. You barely supply even just your pathetic little farmer. And certainly the rest of the town doesn't care.” 

Pierre stalked forward and slammed his palms onto the counter. “That's low.”

“Oh? Is it? I wasn't aware I had stooped anywhere near your level.” He tilted his head and pressed out a patronizing sigh. “I do hope this doesn't cut into your profits too much. After all, I'd hate to see what you do if you're... truly desperate.” The smile was as bright as the light above.

Pierre clenched his fists. He was a boxer. He was strong. He could just knock this man into next week. But he held it back, and reined in it. Easy.

“You could always submit.” Morris' tone slid into a lower register.

Pierre almost had to lean in to hear it. But no, no, he heard and he refused. Never again. He wouldn't let the bastard browbeat him into... that again. “I'd sooner choke.”

The smile didn't fade. “Then perhaps you'd better leave.” Somehow it remained just as stiff, even with those words so rough out of his throat. “Before I lock the doors.”

He knew better than to ignore a threat like that in the other man's territory. Who knew just exactly what things Morris was really capable of? He didn't want to think about it. So he turned, and once more escaped the bastard's over stuffed store.

\--~~--

“I'm telling you, he's... the worst.” Pierre wasn't drunk. But he wanted to be. Two drinks in, and he was still as fired up as he'd started.

The farmer pat him on the shoulders, the only one who listened and consoled. “Just, try not to think about him.”

Pierre grunted and slumped back down into his chair. “I've tried that. But he's taking over the town.”

“I know. And I've got nothing but Joja Cola and Joja CDs in my ponds. He doesn't even listen when I say that they should help me dredge it.” They pat Pierre on the back. “I honestly think I'll go fix up the Community Center like that Wizard said I should.”

“Oh, that one? He gives me weird feelings. And anytime I do see him, at festivals or holidays, he's always staring at Caroline.”

“He's a bit... odd. But he seems alright. I guess everyone seemed alright at first though.” The farmer leaned back. “Even Morris. He was so nice. But you can't tell how someone is based on one meeting, can you?”

The drink made it hard to focus, even if he wasn't drunk. But he pulled back a bit, “How would you go about fixing the Community Center? Wouldn't Robin be the one to see about that?”

“Oh, sure, sure. We could do it that way. But there are these neat little spirits in there, Juniboy. Jun—something.”

“Junimo?”

“Yeah!” The farmer grinned and leaned forward, almost conspiratorially. “So, the mayor takes me there, and I see all these little things, taking up residence in the place. And I say to myself, self, either you're going nuts, those are mice, or those are actually little blocky people. And guess which one it was?”

“Well, knowing you, it could have been a combination.” Pierre grinned.

The farmer slapped him on the shoulder and roared with laughter. “You never quit! But no, they're real. And that purple haired magic man, he sends me this weird cryptic letter 'Come to my house'.” They put scare quotes and a deeper voice around that, “so I figure, I know how to fight enough. If this guy's a weirdo, I'll put a punch to him and leave.”

“So?”

“He gets me higher than I've ever been in my life. Just absolutely balls to the wall wrecked. I thought I could talk to Yoba at one point.”

Pierre leaned closer, but he couldn't keep the laughter down, even as he tried to keep their conversation to themselves. “No!”

“He did! He did. Trees shaking, Junimo dancing in my brain, all sorts of fuzzy waves and weird shapes. I thought... well, let's just say, Wizard knows how to party.”

“It's funny. I've mentioned him to Caroline, and she called him Rasmodius.”

“What kind of name is that even?” The farmed took another shot as Emily handed it out, and shook their head. “I tell you, it's neat being more in tune with nature. But I don't know if I can handle another high like that ever again.”

“I can't say I've ever, umm, done anything like that. Gotten high or anything.” He glanced anxiously to Emily. “I'm too much of a family man, you know.” He tugged at the collar on his jacket, and took a gulp of his beer.

Emily grinned and pet the farmer's head. “Are you talking about that Wizard again?”

“Yeah!” They offered a sloppy grin back and tilted their head up towards Emily. “You want to stay and chat?”

She turned and glanced towards the crowded bar. “You know I love hearing your stories, but it's the busiest night of the week. Full bar.” She shrugged and offered an almost pained expression. “Sorry! But tomorrow!”

They snapped their fingers in her direction, then muttered into their drink. “I tell you what. You're lucky you've got someone already. I'm striking out everywhere I go.”

“Just keep trying. It took me a lot of convincing with my sweet Caroline.”

“Well, you're a lucky man. Don't do anything to mess with that.” They stood up, snapped their fingers at him and pointed, then ambled on over to another table.

Social butterfly who just couldn't stick to any one group. But he did find them charming. They'd find their way. It'd only been two months.

Pierre sighed, finished his draft, and slid a tip under it, before he turned and headed for the door.

“Leaving so soon?” Emily balanced a tray of drinks on an arm and smiled at him.

“I just need to clear my head.” And figure out just what was going on at the Community Center. And maybe how he could help. Anything to get one over on Morris.

He was barely five steps out the door, when movement caught his attention.

It was a Friday. A normal day for people to be about at night and going this way and that.

Still. “Hello?”

He stepped closer, towards his store and movement.

Morris stepped out of the shadows and smiled over. “Hello, Pierre.”

“Finally come to show your true colors and talk to the people of this lovely town, have you?” He didn't sway, the world swayed.

“No, not quite. I just came by to see you. I have something you might like.”

Pierre scoffed openly, and wildly crossed his arms. “No way. Nothing you have would be something I want.”

“It's a shame you're so drunk.” Morris stepped closer. “I almost feel bad talking to someone so obviously affected.”

“I'm not drunk at all! I'm just, a tiny, little bit tipsy. After a long week of work, I deserve a break.”

“Oh, yes. Wednesday off. Shorter hours. Fridays spent cajoling the townsfolk into feeling guilty for you and buying at your ridiculous prices--”

Pierre pressed a finger to Morris' lips. “Shhh. My prices are better than yours. You make them pay a membership to even match my prices. That's... just shoddy business practice. If you were a local company, you wouldn't get away with it.” 

Morris began to walk away.

“Hey, I'm not done talking to you!” Pierre followed. “You're not even good at business. If you didn't have Joja's money to fall back on, you'd be run out of town,” he snapped his fingers, “like that.”

“Is that so?” Morris pulled out his ring of keys. “I see, I see. Well, I've taken to your practices tonight. I've closed up a bit early.” They walked over the bridge.

“Yeah? Your store is still a soul sucking place. Your employees hate it there. You should hear... hear Shane.”

“Oh, believe me. I do. Actually. That's what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Pierre stood in front of the glass doors and glared at Morris' reflection. And his backside. “About what now?”

“Shane. He's got loose lips, so to speak.”

There was that filthy innuendo again. But there was no way. Pierre shook his head. “Go on.”

“Well, I understand from one of his conversations with another employee--”

“Was it Sam?”

“It doesn't really matter.” Morris took an unreasonable amount of time picking the right key. There were only three on the loop! But finally he held it up, and inserted it into the circular lock.

The doors slid open, and Morris stepped inside.

Pierre followed, curious.

Only the light over the counter shone. It only went so far, and then the many aisles and shelves became dark catacomb-like things.

Pierre shuddered. “Listen, what're you even getting at?”

“How much, exactly, would you say you drank?”

“A shot... and two beers? Why does it matter? This is just a conversation.”

“Over the course of how long?”

Pierre blinked and fumbled to think. He hadn't slept well the night before, so... “Maybe an hour or so.”

“I see. Well, to summarize, I know about your little secret.”

“Nice try, Morris. I don't have any secrets. Unless you're talking about the one I know you're not about to expose, because it'd get you in hot water too. I doubt Joja would look too kindly on a scandal like that.”

Morris' lips twisted into an ugly smile. His pupils seemed to magnify in size through the thick lenses. “Oh, no, I don't mean that one. How would Shane know that?”

“He... saw me leave once?”

“No, I doubt he put it together. Or, if he did, he knows enough to keep himself quiet on that.” Morris locked the door behind them.

Things became just a bit more uncomfortable. Pierre stepped back, towards the counter now. “What secret then?”

“Your 'stash'. I found it today.”

“Y-you went through my bookcase?”

Morris chuckled and adjusted his glasses. “Oh, is that where it was? I've been so busy at the store, I actually hadn't left today, other than just now.” He stepped closer. “I wonder what Caroline and the rest of the town would think if they knew you partook in illicit substances.” 

He'd just said he never did. He always said, vocally, how bad that was. He made such... Pierre took another step back. “I could move it.”

“Oh, I'm sure. But could you move it before I called Caroline?” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “You're in decent shape. I hear you've started working out with Caroline and the rest of the girls. But I wonder... could you run that fast, that far? Before I finished with this phone call?” He showed her number on the screen. His thumb twitched over the green dial button.

“Morris.”

“I can forget all about it. If you can do what you said last time, and a little bit more.” Morris advanced. Even in the darkness, it was clear. There was a thick bulge in his pants, and he pressed it up against Pierre.

He couldn't breath for a long moment, and it came out finally in a gasp, and a rapid needy inhale. “What?”

“I want you to 'choke on it'.” He seemed annoyed that he had to clarify, and even pulled out the finger quotes again, though his other hand held the phone. “That's something you've done, I'm sure. A man who was so wild in his youth, as I'm told. No doubt you've 'choked on it' many times.” He pressed more insistently. “So get to work.”

He barely felt his knees touch the tiles, courtesy of the few drinks he'd enjoyed. He blinked, and glanced up one last time at Morris' face, lit up so angular by the lighting, despite how round it normally was.

“I would say you need to hurry as I don't have all night, but the truth is, there's no real rush.” Morris played his fingers through Pierre's light brown hair. “We've got all night. Caroline never expects you home until late, and all my worker's have gone home, ever so grateful that they don't have to work the same long... hard... hours I put in.” Morris pulled Pierre by the hair, and guided his mouth towards his zipper. “But I am fairly impatient when it comes to this.”

He had done this. In his errant youth, he'd done all the things he worried constantly that Abby did herself. He'd found himself in alleys, on his knees, with that same feeling in the pit of his stomach. Alcohol, and arousal he didn't necessarily understand.

Morris wasn't even his type. 

He worked the zipped down, and found Morris' length barely constrained by the front of his boxers. “I thought you might be a briefs man.” He grinned, but it's a leftover from his time spent feeling so nice, and friendly, in the bar. It's a bit to just keep the nerves at bay.

Then Morris pulled again at thick hair, and replied. “I just like to be most comfortable for the occasion. I've prepared for this.”

It's out before he really knows what he's doing. And then he tasted it. It's not much of a taste, just a little salty, sweat and precum on his tongue. But it's there, and it's heady, and he leaned in and took more. His tongue swirled along the head, and pressed skin back until the tip was fully exposed. Then more, more into his mouth, down his throat. He moaned. It was an accident.

Morris stroked through his hair, almost gently. “I used to be a store owner too, you know.”

Pierre took more in, and pressed deep, until he couldn't take anymore. His hand fisted at the length, and helped to make his job a bit easier.

They tugged a bit harder, “But that's not important. I'm here. I like it here.”

He couldn't look up, and even if he could, his glasses wouldn't let him see. But the tone sounded strange. He didn't know. All Pierre knew was Morris wouldn't let go, and he couldn't take much more into his mouth without--

“Choke.” Morris yanked him forward.

He gagged almost immediately, and tried to pull back.

“This is what you said you'd rather have.”

Pierre felt the urge to bite, but resisted. But on an almost empty stomach, with beer that sloshed within his belly, the other urge nearly overwhelmed. He gagged harder, and jerked himself back. Tears breached at the corners of his eyes.

Morris released his vice grip, but still held Pierre by a hand full of hair. “Breath.”

He did. And damn them both, but his cock surged after that display. It strained against his jeans, and he squirmed about and tried to keep it from view.

“I could let you up.” Morris seemed to ponder the statement. He tapped one finger along his chin, while the other hand held Pierre down. “But you'd have to admit you'd like to submit to me.”

He was submitting either way, wasn't he? And what choice did he have anyway? 

Another twitch of life in his pants, and he grunted around the dick in his mouth.

Morris freed Pierre momentarily. “What was that? Would you rather choke, and clean up any messes you make, or submit to me in another way?”

He couldn't recall a time he'd hated stronger. Maybe once, when he was young. He'd been hatefucked hard against a wall by an ex after a fight. 

Hottest sex of his life.

Another pulse, more insistent, down below. 

“Well?” Morris narrowed his eyes. “If you don't hurry and pick, I'll pick for you.”

He didn't want any part in this entrapment. Morris wouldn't get him actually admitting to a damn thing this time.

“You're oddly stubborn in the worst of times.” Morris sighed, and pulled him forward. “Not that it's really a problem. It just makes this a bit more interesting.”

He controlled the gag this time. Reflexes he hadn't had to suppress for years slid to the back, and he managed to suck in, and breath, all at the right times. Of course, that was a lot harder when Morris wouldn't let him go at his own pace and pull back to breath. Then the gags rolled out again.

He almost coughed up some beer around the cock, before Morris had a bit of mercy and released his hair enough.

Pierre jolted back, and inhaled deep.

A moment later, Morris jammed his hips up against Pierre's cheeks, and held there. “That's right. Just relax. Ah! No teeth!” He yanked Pierre off, and all but pulled him half off his knees by a grip of hair. “I'd hope you didn't bite on purpose.”

He almost wished he could claim he had. But no. That had been a purely reflexive thing. Morris moved too quick. He wasn't used to it. He scoffed.

“It doesn't matter.” Morris let go.

Pierre stood the rest of the way up. He was taller. So how could Morris always make him feel like he was on his knees? 

Morris took him by the shoulders, and tugged him in by his jacket collar. “I want you. Over the counter.”

He scoffed. “I don't think so.”

“Oh? Then I suppose you'd like me to call Caroline?” There was the phone again, recovered from a pocket Pierre hated more than anything. Maybe not more than Morris.

What he wouldn't do to just... Pierre shrugged from that grip, then grabbed Morris by the shoulders, and pressed him around, and into the counters himself. “Why don't you stuff it?”

“I plan to.” Morris slapped Pierre's hands away. “Stop being stubborn.”

“No.” He still had the salty tang on his tongue. It mingled with the beer's aftertaste. How long had it been since he'd felt those tastes together? He could remember. He'd been bolder then. Not so damn... “Fuck you.”

Morris scoffed and pressed the phone back into his pocket. “You think you can come into my store, and tell me--”

“I think...” He ground himself against Morris. “That you're way too high on your horse. And I want nothing more... than to pull you off.” He jammed his mouth against Morris, and kissed hard enough the other couldn't ignore that taste either.

Morris relaxed, and pulled Pierre harder into the kiss. Teeth bit along Pierre's lips, bottom, and top, and threatened to leave marks Caroline might question.

Not that she paid all that much attention these days anyway. Pierre returned the bites, and cupped Morris' heavy bottom in his wide hands. 

Morris broke the kiss first. He straightened his tie and kept his gaze locked with Pierre. “I-I must admit. I didn't expect--”

“Shut up.” He tugged at that stupid tie, and tossed it to the ground. “You wanted me here so bad, here I am. Go ahead, tell my wife about my stash. I don't care. Tell the whole town. Maybe they'll like me better. Maybe I'll... be more real than you. More personable.” He pulled Morris' herringbone jacket off, and didn't pay any mind to the buttons that popped and flung themselves across the room.

“That's a good--”

“Don't care.” Pierre tossed the jacket away, then began to work at the shirt. “No one's around. Let loose.”

“If you think you can just come here and--”

He smirked and pressed back into a kiss. It wasn't as violent. His tongue delved into Morris' mouth, while his hands worked at the material. Tug, pull, stroke to relax Morris, tug, pull, and the shirt was gone too. So easy. 

Morris moaned again, and ground his still hard length between Pierre's legs, right up against the rough jeans material. He removed himself from the kiss, and panted against Pierre's collar. “This isn't how it's supposed to happen.”

“Was I supposed to behave like last time?” Pierre chuckled, and reached down to stroke at it loosely. “Did you want me like last time? I'm just drunk enough to not really care. Sober enough to get it up.” He unzipped himself with his other hand, and quickly enough freed his cock. 

He wasn't the sort to measure dick size, but if he were, he'd win. Even slightly less than fully hard, he was a little bit longer, and a little bit thicker. Pierre smirked, and held the two together between his own clasped hands.

Both of them worked their hips into the grip.

Morris leaned his head against Pierre's shoulder, and thrust into those hands, and up against Pierre's hard cock. “Don't think you're going to get away with just this.”

Pierre whispered at Morris' ear. “Oh, don't worry. You'll get what you deserve.”

“I don't care what you think I deserve! I care...” He grunted, and fingers tightened along Pierre's jacket sleeves and tugged hard. “About getting what I want.”

“You just want sex up against that counter, right?” Pierre all but purred the words out.

“Yes...” Morris sighed, and pulled from the grip. He took a readying breath. “I don't want to finish too quickly.”

“Oh, don't worry, that won't be a problem.” Pierre guided them with a hand on Morris' bare arm, and lifted the front counter flap, so they could continue through and go to Morris' standing spot.

“I'm glad you could finally be amenable.” Morris found composure, despite his cock out, and his body all but naked, with only sagging trousers to keep him warm from the chill of the air conditioned store.

Pierre shoved Morris down over the counter, and pressed his cock up against that wide backside. “You didn't say just exactly how you wanted me.”

“You know what I meant!” He hissed out.

Pierre's fingers braved the trip into down to tug Morris' pants lower, until his ass was bared for Pierre. “Come on. You want it. You've probably been hard all day, thinking about this.” 

Morris scoffed. “Not this. I won't have you inside of me. You're hardly worth my time.”

“Says the guy who, apparently, has some lube right here. I don't think that's corporation standard.” He chuckled, and reached for the bottle.

“That was put there recently. So I could do this to you!” But Morris didn't fight. Didn't even resist a bit. All bark, no bite, at least right then.

Pierre grinned, a sincere one, albeit a little malicious. “Shhh. I guess if you tell me no, I won't.” He pressed a lubed finger to Morris' tight star. Clever fingers probed just enough to dip in, but not too much. “But I think you want me to slam right into you, fuck you over the counter, just like you asked for.”

Morris' pants seemed to fill the store. He clutched and clawed at the laminate. “I don't know I've ever loathed another person as much as I do you.”

“That's not a no.”

“I should absolutely tell... everyone.” He moaned then, and pressed a sweaty forehead to the surface in front of him.

Oops. Pierre had accidentally pressed two fingers in, and curled them right towards the prostate. How cruel. He chuckled, and began to scissor the fingers. “Be thankful I'm preparing you at all.”

Morris shifted his legs and spread his stance a bit. “I won't thank you for anything.”

“If you say so.” It didn't matter. He didn't have much of a mind left for all this word stuff. He was a man of action in the moment. And at the moment, he worked one slick hand along his heavy cock, and the other within Morris. “You really are a tight ass.”

“You will regret this.”

He didn't care. Maybe? Maybe not. It didn't matter. A moment later, he lined himself up, and went for the gold. 

So tight. Tighter than he'd had in ages. Pierre let his eyes slide shut, and he just enjoyed the grip. Wet hands struggled for a grip on large hips, but he squeezed hard enough that he finally caught some traction. 

Morris eased himself back onto Pierre, and let out the most satisfying little moan. “I-I should tell your wife about this too...”

“Take some pictures for Joja while you're at it. That'll make you employee of the month real fast.” He slammed forward, and loved the way Morris' ass took him in. Why not? He raised one strong arm up, and brought it down in a hard slap.

White skin flashed pink, then began to blossom an almost red. Another slap, and Pierre began to really thrust.

“I can't wait... until you finally admit Joja's superior.” Morris glared over his shoulder. “And you will. Despite any minor... setbacks.”

Pierre worked faster, and felt himself losing a bit of control. He needed. More. “That'll never happen.”

“Oh, it will. I've been so... many better places. And they always come around.”

“Do you mean that literally?” He smirked and pulled Morris' cheeks apart to better watch himself go in. “Because I could see it with you...”

Morris grunted, and shoved himself back hard enough to make Pierre almost lose his footing. “No. I don't mean... literally.”

“Are you sure? You seem so ready with me. I have to wonder if you haven't tried to bring others around this way.”

Morris dug his nails along the laminated counter top. “No. I haven't.”

Funny, the idea that Morris was such a bastard to lots of store owners and they just ended up slamming into him, one after another, was still in his mind. Likely would be for some time, even after his tipsy haze faded and he came to regret this all.

But that was then, and he didn't care. Pierre savored the feeling, and finished inside Morris.

He clenched, and sighed, and pressed his head to the surface. 

Pierre gave one last slap, and pulled away. A string of come connected them, but he shook himself off, and smirked a bit to see it trail out just ahead of a bit more that slid from Morris' used hole. “That's a good look on you.” He stepped back and sat down on the manager's chair. It rolled back a little, but he caught himself before it tipped.

Morris turned about slowly. Finally, he faced Pierre, and smiled. “We're not through.”

“Oh?”

“I've filled all my quotas today, but one.” He advanced, and kicked out of his pants. Naked all but his boots, he somehow seemed more formidable than just a bit before. “I intend to fill it. Pierre.”

Pierre leaned back in the chair a little, and breathed out through his mouth. He eyed that cock, and saw it was just a tad bit bigger than before. Clearly all that work had gotten Morris a bit more excited.

He splayed his legs out a bit and eyed Morris up and down. He could let this happen. He wanted well enough by this point.

He glanced towards the darkened areas he'd never been to, and off towards Morris' apartment, and the employee lounge.

He'd already done it here. Morris could wait. He needed to see the employee lounge.

“Well, you've got your work cut out for you.” He jumped from the chair with more spryness than his age would normally allow. 

“Where are you going?” Morris seemed incredulous. 

Pierre ducked under the counter bar, and worked his way back in the darkness towards the forbidden areas.

“Don't you go there!” His boots sounded loudly along the shiny tiles. His voice boomed throughout the empty store. 

Pierre wasn't young anymore. But every Friday, he felt it just enough to make day in and day out of the same damn thing worth it. He was just drunk enough to not really give a damn how silly he looked, dick half-hard in his pants, half-running through the store as a naked man chased him down.

He was lost though. There were too many aisles in this damn place. He just wanted the employee lounge.

And here was a dead end. What kind of shitty store made it so you couldn't run through without having to double back? He turned.

Morris stood in the little bit of light the long aisle gained from the front. He stepped closer. His glasses didn't betray what his eyes did, but Pierre could imagine.

Excitement he honestly didn't want bubbled back up, and he pressed to the wall. “Doing some remodeling?”

“You noticed.” Morris stepped. Stepped. Stepped. “You really are interesting like this. I thought you were always so dry. But you're almost playful right now.”

Pierre scoffed. “Oh please. I'm just trying to go.”

“The door to leave was that way. And you're not the one who's naked. If you really wanted to escape so badly, you would have taken the chance when you had it. But now?” He almost had Pierre now, he was only a few checkered tiles away. “Now you're mine.”

He felt a bit like dodging, but he didn't, and Pierre grunted when his body hit the sturdy steel shelves. A few boxes tipped over, and fell onto the floor.

Morris ground a punishing kiss to his lips. 

Pierre sighed into it, and squirmed at those rough fingers that groped and clawed their way over every bit of flesh they could manage to grip.

Maybe he'd help Morris fill that quota. Something about the spirit of business rivalry. Something like that. He didn't know. But maybe he wanted it a little. That cock was nice and hard, after all, and everything felt so good.

It was a touch he just didn't get anymore. Needy yet demanding.

“Turn around.” No room for argument. Morris took one step back, and waited.

He considered ignoring it, for a blip of a thought, but decided against it. He wouldn't think too hard on why he obeyed, he'd just accept that he did. Pierre shifted, and turned himself around. Hands braced at sturdy steel. “These are good shelves. Very high quality.”

Morris' breath was at his neck. “I don't skip out on quality.”

“I said the shelves were nice, not the off-brand boxes on the floor.” He grunted.

Morris jerked down Pierre's jeans with no consideration for comfort and slid them around his ankles. Then the head pressed up against Pierre's entrance.

Pierre gripped tighter. The shelves didn't shake, despite how he held. “I did prepare you, you know. A lot nicer, I might add, than any consideration you've shown.” 

A hum of thought, then the cock pulled away. A moment later, a couple of fingers pressed against Pierre's open maw.

He was smarter than to look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak. He sucked at those fingers, and worked up as much spit as he could.

“Are you that eager to feel me inside of you?” The words slid out and taunted him.

He grunted, and bit just a little. Enough to let Morris know he was playing along, but he didn't feel he had to anymore. The alcohol had passed enough to remind him the world wouldn't end if Caroline knew about his stash, or, why not, even this.

Morris extracted his fingers, and pressed them with little ceremony into Pierre's backside. “I suppose that's my answer.”

“I've got an answer if you want it.” He rumbled.

“How about you keep it to yourself. Or this could get a bit less pleasant.” Morris warned, and once more lined his thinner cock up. 

Pierre smirked, but actually managed to keep his mouth shut. Whatever you say. Oh!

It snuck up on him. He shut his eyes, and his forehead pressed down onto an off brand canister of oats. “You really don't give any warning.”

“I literally just warned you.” Morris continued to apply pressure and squeeze in. “You're just not very good at listening.”

He focused on his breathing, and tried to just relax. Fine, fine, it was alright. Even nice, when he got over that initial bump of discomfort. “You know, how good are these shelves really? You won't spill everything onto the floor if you--”

Morris didn't waste time. Hard, rough, deep. “What was that?” 

The shelves seemed pretty stable. They looked to be bolted to the floor, from what he could tell in the very dim lighting. Not that he could focus on that too much, considering how Morris worked him over. “I-I said...”

Morris increased the pace. “Come again?”

Boy would he not mind that. Pierre arched himself back onto that nice cock. “I wouldn't want anything to...” Oh, Yoba, that was it. Right there.

Morris reached around, and idly stroked along Pierre's half-hard length even as his body worked so quickly and rough against Pierre. The disconnect between actions was oddly even more arousing.

Pierre didn't want to think about that either, though. He just focused on the feeling. Hands, breath, cock, sweat everywhere. The chill of the air conditioner, the warmth of their bodies.

Morris finished with a simple sigh, and pulled out not a moment later. He spurted once more, a string over Pierre's hairy backside, before he pulled away entirely. 

Pierre didn't know if there was more, but if there was, it wasn't his problem. He hoped. Of course, if Morris was a particular sort of bastard, he might try and--

“Clean it up.” Again, no room for argument.

Like Oblivion he'd just do it without a fight though. Morris could command all he wanted. And it could make Pierre hard, too, he didn't care. “No.”

Morris smirked, and a devious glint shone on his glasses in the little amount of light that managed to reach them in the dark recesses of the store. “Oh?”

“Make me.” He turned about entirely and faced Morris. So his pants were around his ankles. Whatever. He stepped out of them, and angled himself, ready to take Morris on.

\--~~--

Worth it. Even over Morris' lap, ass most definitely red and likely to bruise, he didn't care. Well, he cared. It hurt, and burned, and felt so warm in his belly and everywhere else. 

But he didn't clean up the damn come, nor did he lick that cock clean. He'd take his knocks if it meant keeping his dignity.

Morris finally let up, and leaned back against the shelving unit.

It shifted, and toppled forward just enough that a large assortment of cheap products battered their nude bodies.

“Stable, you said.” Pierre muttered, as he pulled himself free from the food wreckage.

“Shut up and help me clean this up. I'd like to sleep sometime tonight.”

He scoffed, but did reach out to assist.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their relationship grows and expands in directions neither expected.

Chapter 3

Pierre took a long swig of his beer. “I tell you what, nothing could pop this mood.”

Gus smiled over and continued his swirling cleaning of the shiny bartop. “I'm glad to see things on the upswing for you. Nothing like a successful local business.” The grin was contagious. “And mine's doing alright too, I have to say.”

Pierre mirrored that expression, and took another sip. 

The door swung open, and Pierre knew immediately by the clap of the boots on flooring. Even over the quiet jukebox melodies, he knew who it was. He turned towards Morris and arched a brow at him over his beer. The smile shifted to something a little more pointed.

“The usual, Morris?” Gus glanced up, and the grin never faded.

“No, I think I'll have a rum and coke today.” He settled in on the stool one away from Pierre and barely offered a glance in his direction. 

Quick enough, Gus handed over the drink, and Morris slid over a stack of G bills. “Keep that.”

“Thank you. Like I said, glad to see the whole town's been turning out here more often than not. Keep's me afloat.”

Pierre all but hummed. “I'm doing better than afloat lately.” He leaned a little bit towards Morris, and a lot in, as if to only speak to Gus. “Made a really great deal today.” But he was loud enough for Morris to hear every word.

“Oh yeah?” Gus worked himself into that happy loud tone as well. “Tell me about it.”

“No, I don't want to spoil it.” Pierre smirked over. “You looked pretty pleased when you came in here Morris. Are things doing any better for you? Are sales up finally?”

Morris scoffed, and a moment later turned with the rum and coke in hand, and sipped at it almost delicately. “Would you like to hear about my sales?” A conversational tone, and yet it almost felt like a challenge.

“Go on, tell us about it.” He swung one leg up onto a rung of the stool between them. “I'm sure it'll keep us entertained.” He finished off his beer, and eased it towards Gus. 

Morris tapped the wood. “Another round for my... for Pierre. To healthy competition!” 

Gus chuckled and shook his head, but filled the mug up with another draft. “I'm glad to see you two aren't scuffling as much anymore.”

“Oh, no, we've settled into... a routine, you might say. I think I'm a bit ahead, but it's not the Joja Spirit to completely crush the competition.” He beamed over at Pierre.

He felt a flush on his face, but it was just the alcohol. 

No it wasn't. He'd been doing this often enough, he knew it wasn't two drinks that made him hot. Pierre smirked and zipped his jacket up a bit, so nothing below was too obvious soon enough. “The only thing you crush, are those shoddy cans people keep returning to you when they realize how bad your cola is--”

“Alright, you two. I don't want to have to send you out like last month.” But the tone wasn't paternalistic, so much as amused. “Why don't you just celebrate, hmm? Sounds like you both made a good sale, we can all be happy for that.”

Morris squirmed a little in his seat, then glanced back over to Pierre. “I suppose that is the truth. So, tell me, what sale did you make? No doubt it was that... extremely socially minded farmer again? So... community focused.”

“Are you still mad about them turning the Community Center around?” Pierre chuckled. “It's good for the town. And it's starting to look nice. Have you even seen it?”

“All I see are Joja Upper Management forms telling me that I need to find a warehouse, and quickly. But that's all fine. Today I made a steady profit. The Mayor bought a great deal of produce from me for that, what's it,” he spun one hand around a few times and searched for the word, “Spirit festival or what have you, that you all do every year.”

“He bought from you huh?” Pierre sucked on the inside of his bottom lip and glanced over at the Mayor. “Well, hey, good for you.” Traitor.

Morris smirked. He pulled an ice cube from his drink and sucked on it quietly, but fairly lewdly.

Gus slid a glass of water in Morris direction, as per the usual. “You should come by this year, Morris.”

He sighed. “I can barely wrangle the time to come here on Fridays. Corporate policy--”

“Morris doesn't have any free time.” Pierre stepped off his stool, and slid into the one just beside Morris. One arm looped lazily around Morris' shoulders and pulled him in. “Isn't that right? Ah, but don't worry, I'm sure one day they'll loosen the leash a little.” He tugged a bit at the collar of his rival. “When you can bring in the big sales.”

“I'll have you know, I was ranked #1 for seven years running in my ability to set up a store and keep it making profits.”

“'Was'? So, has that changed?” Pierre leaned a bit closer, and grinned with more teeth than strictly necessary. 

Morris shifted and tugged himself back a bit. “I've... had difficulties recently. But we're not here to commiserate on those, are we? Tell us about your good fortune, Pierre.”

“Fruit. Trees. Full dozen ready for that crafty little farmer. I don't know where they got the funds, and it doesn't matter. It'll set me up for two seasons at least.”

“Oh, it will?”

“Soon as they clear their land, chop a few trees tonight, they're coming by first thing to get some trees from me tomorrow.” He swiftly drank his beer, and wiped some foam on the back of his hand. “Yep, I'll make a pretty pile of Gs.”

Morris scooted a bit closer. “So many? They're really making a killing at this farm game.”

Pierre nodded. “Can't wait until tomorrow, my friend.”

“Well, what's tomorrow when you have tonight? Finished with your beer already? How about another? On me?”

“I feel like I should be buying you a round,” Pierre slapped his beer back down and pressed his leather boot up against one houndstooth pant leg. He followed the line up, and toyed with Morris a bit higher. Just behind the knee, where Morris squirmed so nicely.

“I certainly wouldn't object.” 

“Another round-- you haven't even finished your drink.” Pierre snorted and slapped Morris on the back. “Go on, finish it faster. Maybe it'll put some hair on that chest of yours.”

“Oh, would you like that?” The voice was so low, Pierre could barely hear it himself, and he was right beside the man.

Pierre grinned and glanced about. “Careful what you say in public.”

“Maybe you should keep that foot of yours off my body if you want us to continue being discrete.”

Gus returned from another customer and leaned closer. “So, anymore drinks? Pierre?”

“One for me, and my... Morris here.” He slapped Morris on the back one more time, and took heed of that warning. Distance. Discretion. He slipped into the stool over and sighed at the familiar warmth he'd given it from hours of sitting. 

Morris finished his rum and coke, and eyed Gus as he prepared to make another. He took several sips of water in the meantime.

Pierre's leg stretched out once more, and his foot played along the metal rung on the stool between them. 

Drinks in hand, Morris and Pierre clacked their glasses together.

“To successful businesses, now and in the future.” Morris smiled and took a sip.

Pierre nodded, “To successful businesses.”

\--~~--

Joja Mart was an entirely different, less loathsome (mostly) place at night. That night, Pierre pressed Morris' face up against the Employee Lounge table. “You're going to get it tonight.” One quick arm swept aside various foam cups and plates that lined along one side of the sturdy table. The items scattered around the room in a very satisfying way.

Morris grunted, and grinned over his broad shoulder at Pierre. “Oh, is this what drinking does to you? I love it when you're so assertive. I was worried you wouldn't be able to get it up.”

“It was only a few.”

“Well, you handle your alcohol better than me then. I'm a bit of a lightweight when it comes to booze, I'm afraid.”

“I know you are.” Pierre fumbled at buttons he couldn't see, and forced Morris further up onto the counter. “I don't know why you wear these fancy pants.”

“It's two buttons, Pierre. Should I get them for you?”

“I can do it. I'm doing better than you.”

Morris arched against the fingers, and the buttons finally worked to Pierre's expectations. A moment later, the zipper slid down, and Morris' pants followed, and slid to the floor.

“I see you're more than raising prices,” Pierre murmured against Morris' ear as he worked on that heavy cock.

Morris shuddered with a silent laugh and shook his head, “I've been slash-ing them, actually.” He ground his cock into Pierre's hand. 

Pierre grunted, and jerked a bit quicker. 

“I just follow the supply and demand.”

He needed something to shove into Morris' mouth, or the man wouldn't shut up for a while on those puns and business terms. “Shut up.” Oh, right. Pierre tugged Morris back, and shoved him into one of the plastic blue chairs. “Open up.”

Morris did as asked, but the corners of his lips turned slightly, an open mouthed smirk of sorts.

Pierre narrowed his eyes, but lifted a leg up and placed his boot firmly on the chair just beside Morris. Then he pulled himself out, and brought Morris forward. “You're awfully agreeable to this.”

He licked once at the head, then smiled widely and nodded. “Why shouldn't I be? I'm... so attracted to good business sense.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, you don't like it?”

“I just don't want to hear you talk right now.” He pressed forward, and his longer cock slid into Morris' mouth with less resistance than usual.

One soft hand reached up and stroked Pierre, while the other focused on Morris' own length. It worked them both in time.

Pierre didn't know how the man had this much coordination. He could barely keep his leg up and thrust into that mouth, at this angle. So he pulled back, and set his leg down. “Come on, let's get back to business.” 

Up, and turned back around, Morris wiggled his wide bottom and glanced back over his fully clothed back at Pierre with such a sultry smile. “You should put in some overtime and restock my shelves.”

He was too drunk to stifle the laugh. The store owner all but fell over Morris' back, and ground his cock against that sweaty backside. His length slid up along the crack, and he slowly rocked back and forth to get some nice stimulation. “You loosen up so nice sometimes.” In so many ways.

Morris sighed and reached back to spread himself more. “Well, I like to think I'm flexible when it's necessary.”

Ugh. Yes, but the tone was so... Pierre rolled his skin back a bit, and lined his head up. “But is your rear loading dock ready for my shipment?”

“You might want to check the safety protocols.” He arched a brow. 

Safety-- oh right. He reached into his jacket, and tugged out a packet of lube. “Almost forgot.”

Morris huffed and steadied himself on the table. “If I didn't enjoy these encounters so much...”

“But you do.” He smeared the substance over his cock, and pressed two fingers up against Morris' read. “Relax. I'll make sure to make your... transition towards Pierre's General Store as smooth as possible.”

“I'd rather choke.”

There was the fight he liked. Pierre slipped a third finger in, and felt a bit of relief that the hole relaxed, even as Morris put up a bit of a verbal struggle. “Come on. Admit it. You want my wood. It's on sale, just for you.”

Morris scoffed.

Pierre was quick to press his cock in just a bit after. “That's what you want, isn't it?”

Fingers that had tapped and strummed with impatience, curled in delight. Morris pushed himself back onto Pierre, and his shoulders arched back like a cat stretching. “It might be.”

“I knew the moment you walked in what you wanted.”

“It's become a bit of a routine with us, hasn't it?”

“We switch it up where it counts.” He settled into a pace. “Gotta keep the customers coming back for more, right?”

Morris nodded and worked to steady his breathing to best work with the thrusts. “But sometimes a routine is nice.”

Fridays, for weeks and weeks. Morris, Pierre, a bit of alcohol, and a lot of spite and rivalry and fucking. He grinned and pressed his belly down onto Pierre's back. “Like this?”

“Something like that. One gets the upper hand. I suppose you got it tonight. To the victor go the spoils, hmm?”

Pierre felt a twitch in his cock, but also in his brain. He was the victor. He was. So why did that tone sound so--

“Oh! Right there!” Morris slammed himself back.

Ah, there it was. Pierre chuckled, and began to work harder to get his lover off. His. Lover. 

Pleasure clouded his thoughts more than the several beers had, but that one word felt a bit off, and yet absolutely at home. Pierre purred and slapped their bodies together at the angle Morris seemed to like best over the table. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Don't you dare stop. I know you, Pierre. Don't you dare!” He glared back, but softened a moment later, at a particularly hard thrust. His mouth hung open in a moan, and his eyes softened a bit. “There...”

Pierre couldn't always keep it going when he was doubled up over Morris, so tight, and warm. Surrounded by all this Joja gear, defiling it, and Joja's manager, on the break room table? That got him off. Maybe too quickly.

Morris sighed, and slumped forward. “So soon? Remind me not to let you drink so much next time.”

He slapped that thick rump and pulled out. “I'll drink what I like.”

“Mmm, fine.” Morris stood and pulled his suit pants up. Then he used a napkin and wiped at a spot on the table, before he crumpled it up, and tossed it for a metal waste can in the corner. He successfully made the shot. Belt adjusted with a hum, he wheeled about and faced Pierre with a thick smirk. “Now, if you'll excuse me.”

“You finished? Already?”

“Is that unheard of?”

“I just figured you might need a bit of a helping hand.” Pierre stepped forward and caught Morris by the shoulders. “Or more.”

“Oh, an offer? As appealing as it is, I thought you too...inebriated to finish me off and did the job myself.” He caught Pierre by the shoulders and tugged him closer. “But don't worry, I'd love a raincheck on that deal. Perhaps, tomorrow?”

“A raincheck?” Pierre grinned lazily, sleepily. He stretched, and nodded. “Tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow, a raincheck, payable to me at all Joja Mart and Joja Corporation locations, by you, Pierre, for one sexual favor of my choice.”

“That sounds like a trap.”

“Don't you enjoy... helping me out?” The pout would look ridiculous anytime that Pierre wasn't a bit drunk.

He grinned. “Yeah, alright. Nothing weird though.”

“Oh, it won't be anything we haven't done before.” 

That tone, the looks, everything about it rubbed him a bit wrong. But Pierre nodded, and turned back towards the exit. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow after work then.”

“Oh, you can count on it.”

\--~~--

“You son of a--” Pierre bit his own lips and hurried with glances about the busy store. Kent, Jodie, Vincent, and Sam in back cleaning.

Shane glanced up, and seemed to be interested for the first time that Pierre could remember, outside of a bar, at least.

He inhaled as calmly as he could, but it felt like steam going into him, and burning. He stomped forward, his boots heavy on the shiny tiles. “You stole my sale.” Finger up, pointing at that button nose.

Morris kept his perfectly upright posture, and continued to beam over. “Oh, I'm sorry you feel that way. In light of your feelings, if you'd like to lodge a complaint with Joja Corporation, on behalf of Joja Mart, and write out the full nature of your concerns,” he began to pull a paper out from beneath his counter.

Pierre slammed a palm down. “You know what I want! I want you to admit what you stole!”

“Stole? I certainly didn't steal anything. Joja Corporation would like me to remind you that business competition is natural in environments with more than one business of a similar nature, and that it's a healthy part of the economy. Any business that is diverted to Joja Mart, is still business that helps make the local economy--”

“I've heard enough of your bull--”

“Foul language is not encouraged, especially in front of children, of which there is one currently in our store.” The smile never wavered, only rose and fell with the shape of each firm, yet polite, word. Morris' eyes sparked behind his glasses. 

“I demand--”

“Would you like to speak with the store Manager?”

“You are the store manager!” He slammed fists this time. “And I don't think I can keep my language appropriate for a store. But I will speak to you. Now.” He pointed to the back room, and towards the steps that lead up to the meeting hall, and beyond that, Morris' tiny sparsely furnished apartment.

Morris tilted his head just ever so. The words slipped out, soft than before, but no less polite. “If you're certain that we can resolve this amicably, without forms and papers, I suppose I would be amenable to that. But really, this form right here...” He slid it forward.

Pierre gripped it, crumpled it between both hands, and tossed it over his shoulder.

“I do ask that you have more respect for Joja Employees, who will have to clean that mess up.” Morris strode over to the bar, and lifted it to leave his safe counter area. “Follow me. And Shane, when you're done, could you please clean up this mess our customer left?”

“Is he a customer? I don't think he's ever shopped here.” Shane moved to pick up the paper though.

“Well, perhaps that will change. I'm remarkably persuasive.” His voice lowered. “I can even manage to convince my listless employees to do work, on occasion.”

Pierre followed, and by the time they got to Morris' place, he was too impatient. He pinned Morris by the shoulders to the fiberboard door, and ground his already stiff cock against him. “You're mine.”

“I expected you, you know.” Morris relaxed and looked over his shoulder at Pierre's face, so close to him, with a face that spoke of nothing but truth, and how smug he felt about it.

“I'm sure you did.”

“But you did promise last night.”

“What?”

Morris calmly reached for his keys, and slipped the correct one into the door with ease. A moment later, he stepped forward over the threshold, and into the cool apartment. “You agreed to a raincheck, to a sexual favor of my choosing. I hope you don't intend to break that agreement.”

“The only thing I want to break is--”

“I'm sure I see where that's going.” Morris spun about and faced Pierre with that same liquid smile. He tilted his head a bit as he spoke, “But not until I've gotten my own satisfaction. And as enjoyable as it was to see you put on such a display... I want a bit more than that. All day I've waited, placidly smiling, and barely able to keep flaccid. It's been maddening.”

“You think you're mad?”

“A different sort, I assure you.” He stepped closer, and pressed into a kiss.

Pierre bit that bottom lip, kicked the door shut behind them, and worked their bodies towards the bed.

Halfway there, Morris stopped them. “Ah, ah, raincheck. I want you on your knees in front of me. I want you to lick me.”

Pierre scoffed. “I won't--”

“If you don't, then you lied.”

“I was drunk. How does a deal done drunk count?”

“Do you remember it at all?”

Pierre could, Morris wanted one sexual favor of his choosing. He'd considered it all day while he'd worked shop and waited for the farmer to show. The farmer who easily strayed from the correct path. 

“Well?”

“I remember it.”

“Then get on your knees. And lick.”

One sexual favor, of Morris' choosing. Pierre grit his teeth, and fell to his knees with a push from Morris. He grunted, and leveled a glare diagonally up at the bastard. “This is what you want for your sexual favor?” He leaned in, mouth open.

“Oh, yes, that's just it.”

He licked the front of Morris' suit pants, then stood. “Done.”

“Excuse me?”

“I wasn't so drunk I was stupid. You asked for one sexual favor. You chose it, not me. You didn't say what else I had to do.”

“That—you're...” Morris huffed and stepped back.

Pierre stomped forward. “And I think I have a lot more plans for you. Go ahead and resist. Make it loud. I'd love for your whole store to hear everything.” He guided Morris back again.

Morris toppled over the mattress, and turned himself so he was flat over the length of the bed. He scrambled up a bit, and eyed Pierre with a bit of hesitation. “Now, now, Pierre, you don't want to be too loud.”

“Don't I?”

“Think of your reputation.”

He smirked, and worked quickly at buttons he knew well by then. Morris' jacket spread open, and revealed the vertical striped white shirt underneath. “I demand satisfaction!” Loud. If anyone could hear, it would sound like an argument. “You stole from me!”

Morris seemed to catch on, and he groaned at the onslaught. “I'd ask you not try to drag Joja's reputation--” 

“Joja's reputation? For Screwing everyone over?” He had Morris bared at the chest now, and he grinned at the large expanse of skin he could scratch and bite at. Nails dug into flesh, and he reveled in the way Morris writhed under him. 

“Hardly! Joja... Joja Corporation--”

“Is a blight on this town! And everyone who shops here should know it. They should know what's really going on. You're taking from small businesses and feeding--”

“Mouths, hungry families, that need cheaper produce than you can afford!”

“And whose fault is that?” He had his cock in hand, and forced it down along Morris' freed length. “You, Joja, you all steal from the small businesses so you can grow.”

“And what's the problem with that?” Morris didn't quite shout like Pierre did, but he no longer kept to that quiet, amicable, and polite tone he'd originally brandished.

“It hurts people.” Lower, and he yanked Morris' pants off with barely a thought. He tossed them away, and enjoyed the exposed body before him. “But don't worry. I won't hurt you. Not if you admit you stole my sale.”

Morris squirmed, and his ass rubbed tauntingly against Pierre's ready cock. “Oh,” lower, lower until Pierre had to lip read, “I suppose I did.”

“Louder.”

“What do you want me to say?” Morris dug his leather heels into the bedding, and lifted his rump up, then ground it a bit against Pierre. “Do you want me to say I'm sorry?”

“Yes.”

“Apologize for stealing from me. 5000G, and I looked like a fool to my superiors. I still haven't recovered from the marks they put on my record. A spotless record, until you!”

“Apologize? You would have torn down the Community Center! You've seen how beautiful it's becoming!” He had a little bottle of lube, right there in an inside pocket. He pulled it out and flipped the lid. “Apologize.”

“You first.”

“Don't test me.”

“You stole first, it's only fair you apologize first too.” Morris clutched sheets with strength enough they creaked a bit. His eyes never faltered in their harsh gaze.

“Fine. I'm... sorry.”

“Fine.”

“And?”

“I didn't steal. The farmer willingly chose me.” He smirked.

He was tempted to not use the lube. But no. He'd use it the same way Morris had, once upon their first time. He spurted it on, slicked it down, and pressed in.

The groan was worth it. Morris' eyes fluttered shut and he inhaled deeply, and spread his lips in an unheard moan.

“You wanted that all day, didn't you?” Pierre jabbed himself in. Hands moved to familiar spots, right at Morris' hips. “You hoped you'd get me angry enough to have you, didn't you?”

“You caught me.” He admitted with a sly smile. Arms raised above his head, and he clutched at the pillow now, and fluffed it loosely with every hard thrust. Hips rolled, and he arched when he could, though sometimes the timing was a bit off.

Morris was so needy under him. He maybe hadn't planned it all like this, but Morris was nothing if not someone who could improvise. And pretend he had everything under control.

Pierre could respect that. He leaned in, and sealed a kiss against that open mouth.

He'd been inside Morris, many times over the last few months. But this had a different feel. Needy, heady, warm. He knew it would, but there was something more. He couldn't put his finger on it, even as he clutched Morris' thick hips, and brought them closer.

It started intense, rough, and rolled into something different. Smoother. The body beneath him relaxed, and bucked against him, as full of desire as Pierre.

He sighed against Morris' neck when he felt his release finally slide out.

They panted together, and Pierre held himself in Morris. “You're still a bastard.”

Morris worked sticky fingers through Pierre's hair. “Maybe. But now you smell like me.”

He bristled, and pulled out entirely and away. “You're...” Come in his hair. He glare over and tried to pull it out, but found it about as successful as trying to take the pulp out of orange juice with your hand. Messy, unsatisfying, and it didn't do the job. “I'm taking a shower.”

“Oh, won't that look interesting. Pierre enters furious. Leaves, wet, and so satisfied.”

“Won't it look bad if I have this in my hair?” He motioned furiously at his stiffening locks.

“Hmm. Just comb it in. I have one over in the bathroom.”

“You're the worst.” He stalked over to the bathroom, and set to work fixing his hair until he could get home and shower without suspicion.

The walk out of the building, no one seemed to pay attention to him.

But Shane met his eye contact at the door, and smirked. “Have a good day, Sir.”

He scoffed, pushed past the drunk, and strut out. He didn't need commentary.

\--~~--

 

By Spring, he knew he needed to grab that farmer's attention once more. He'd rooted through catalogs, and managed to secure a few deals on seeds that were needed in their region, and absolutely top of the line in quality.

He knocked at the farmer's door, just as they began to open it.

They stepped back, and he stepped forward. “Morning, friend.”

“Hey, uh, Pierre.”

“I know we've not always been on the best of terms.”

“You called me a shithead traitor last time we spoke.”

Pierre squinted. “That's in the past.”

“It was two weeks ago. You were plastered.” They didn't seem angry, just a bit amused. Though, they did cross their arms and arch a brow in question.

“I ordered new seeds, just for you. Not even Joja Mart offers these right now.”

“Yeah?” The spry farmer stepped forward and nodded. “Ok, I'll come give them a looksee. But you're going to stop calling me names, right?”

Pierre swallowed. “O-of course. I honestly don't know what came over me.”

“I feel like it might have something to do with those trees.” The farmer glanced over to the heavy grove. “They're blooming nicely though, despite what you said about Joja quality.”

“Yes. I suppose... I suppose they are.”

“You and Morris should probably sort your stuff. You both talk about each other to me, and then I see you hanging out in the bar every Friday. It's pretty conflicting.”

“Wh-what do you mean? We're just business rivals, that's--”

“I don't think that's all. But that's none of my business. Just like what the people down South get up to in their forest and their tower isn't my business.” The farmer pressed past him. “Now, if you'll excuse me. I've got a busy day ahead of me and I can't waste any time, or I might wake up in Harvey's clinic again.”

Pierre shut the door for the farmer, and turned after them. “What happens in the tower?”

“None of my business. But if I were you, I'd have a nice talk with your wife. Seems like both of you could do for a real conversation.”

“Just what do you mean by--”

“Sorry, busy!” They waved, and ducked into one of their barns.

He scoffed, and turned back towards town.

\--~~--

Pierre slammed the front door and stomped out of his store.

“Oh, someone looks a bit miffed. Trouble in paradise?”

“Not now, Morris.” He slumped against the wall, shoulders back, and head tilted towards the overcast new Spring sun.

“But I was so happy to announce my new seeds in stock.”

He groaned. “Really? I can't have just one item in stock that you don't? What, did you steal the idea from me when I was in the Saloon again?” More slump. He started to slide down a bit. 

“You're... not quite as strung out as I thought you might be. Or maybe you're moreso. Did something else happen?” He stepped forward, and pressed himself up against the wall slats as well. 

He didn't reply.

The door swung open and nearly hit Pierre.

Caroline flounced through, offered Morris a tight nod, arched a brow at Pierre, and headed on towards the Southern end of town.

Pierre muttered syllables even he wouldn't think about, grabbed Morris by the wrist, and tugged him inside. “Come on.”

“Where are--”

“Don't ask stupid questions, just follow me.” Door shut behind them, Pierre slammed the lock, then yanked Morris further into the building. Back past the living room, and into the bedroom. 

“This is bolder than usual.”

“Well, if she can have her cake, why shouldn't I?”

“Oh, am I cake now? And just what cake is she eating?”

“Rasmodius, or whatever his name is. That wizard.” He shuffled out of his boots, and tossed his jacket onto the ground. 

Morris seemed more contemplative than usual. No small feat. He stepped forward. “So she knows about us then?”

“We talked. We agreed.”

“And you both get someone you want?”

“Something like that.” He pulled his shirt up over his abs and chest and tossed it onto the dresser. A picture of Caroline toppled. He smirked, but ignored it to step forward and help Morris along. “I've got about an hour or so to kill.”

“I came by on lunch break.”

“So, about half an hour?”

“Maybe five minutes by this point. I don't get very long lunches.”

Pierre shook his head, but grinned at the thought of a challenge. “Five minutes is long enough. You might still be a little late though, on the limp back.”

“Please. Like you're going to top this time.”

“Oh?”

“Your ass has my name and Joja Corp printed all over it. I'm surprised you can't see it, with how far your head--”

Pierre lunged, and forced them both down hard on the large bed. Much nicer than the one Morris had. This one had room to really work with. And Pierre just had, with Caroline, an hour or so before.

Morris wasn't kidding though. Even with all his irritation, Pierre felt Morris inside him first. 

All the tension slipped away with every thrust of Morris' heavy body. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, don't be shy. You brought me here for a reason. You may as well confess how much you've thought about this.”

He felt the smirk stretch over chapped lips. His throat was dry, parched, from all the shouting and groaning. He offered a single nod, and that was all.

“Good enough. I suppose that's the best I can expect from a simple man like yourself.” Morris added a bit more lube to his cock, and worked himself deeper. “How dirty, to have us do this here. Right where you lay beside her.”

Pierre grunted, and pushed his palms up against the shuddering hardwood headboard. “Harder!” Gruffer than usual, and a bit pained out of his throat.

“Gladly.” Morris spanked Pierre's pale backside. “You didn't even hesitate to pull me in here. Would you have liked to have pinned me and taken me just like this?”

He grit his teeth, and nodded once more, though offered no verbal response. His glasses slipped down his nose, but he didn't move a finger to fix them.

“But you did come to an agreement with her, yes?”

“Is that all you want to know?”

“It just means I can't tease you with telling anymore. Sadly. Though... I suppose it's nice she knows. It means I can do this.” Hands tugged at Pierre's hips, and brought him up just a bit. Morris pulled back, and worked Pierre back with him. “Ass higher, there it is. Now, let's see if I can't make it back in time like this.” 

No more talking. No more taunts, no more sultry, nasty words.

Morris pounded him like that first time. All control, and selfish pleasure that somehow brought Pierre higher, despite Pierre's need to scramble and scrape for power and dominance himself.

Morris pushed him down, one palm on Pierre's neck, not rough, but firm. The other held an arm behind his back. “You enjoy taking it, don't you?” There it was, that sultry mocking tone. 

“Fuck you.”

“Frequently, and with pleasure.” Morris pushed a little harder on Pierre's wrist. “Do you like being held down and fucked into your own bed?”

Sometime Morris wouldn't use words like that. Filthy words. Words beneath him.

Pierre whined, and he felt a flush of shame at it, but refused to answer. That was too low.

“I think you do. I think that's all you wanted. Do you want control, or do you want to be controlled?”

“Right now? I want you to shut up and fuck me.”

“That's all I needed to hear.” He worked without mercy. Hands on Pierre, on neck, throat, shoulders, ribs. Ass. And then the bites. Nowhere the town could see, but everywhere Caroline absolutely could.

For once, Pierre didn't push back against the claims. He grunted, and sighed, and spread himself out, splayed himself apart. Made himself open, and ready, and full of Morris.

The finish was slower than usual. Morris twitched, and twitched, but he didn't slide out. Morris remained curled over, his suit pressed against Pierre's slick back, and his mouth on Pierre's neck. Before he even pulled out, he pulled off a bit, and whispered, “Give my regards to Caroline.”

Pierre relaxed forward, and offered a lazy smirk back. “I'm sure I'll get some regards on behalf of that purple haired bastard too.”

“Oh, no doubt. If you'd like, I can jack up the prices of my ingredients when he's buying.”

“H-he buys at your store? I thought he--”

Morris chuckled and finished fully redressing. “I don't actually know what he does for sustenance. Whatever it is, it's working. He's certainly thinner than I've ever been.”

Pierre waved him away. “Get out of here. I think your break's over.”

“Oh, it was likely over, ah, yes,” he tapped his wrist watch, “ten minutes ago. The Manager will have my head.”

Pierre snickered and rolled onto his back. Naked, and content. “Get gone. I have a busy day planned.”

“Oh, yes, I can see. First day of Spring, and you've closed down the store, opened your relationship up, and gotten fucked by a business rival right in your own oversized bed. I'd be the first to call that busy.”

There was that word again. He watched the ceiling, and didn't dare look over at Morris. He might try for another round, and then they'd both be screwed. But it would be so fun...

“I'll see you.” Morris shut the door behind him.

\--~~--

“Come back! I'll give you 50% off! 75%! You don't have to stay here, come to Joja Mart!” Morris' voice pitched higher, and cracked a bit. 

People stared. Just like they had when Pierre had called Morris out in Joja, but here it was the entire town. Expressions between the villagers mixed between sad, annoyed, and amused.

Pierre stepped forward. “Morris. It's not like you're being run out of town. It's just a Community Center. It's for everyone. Even you, even me.”

Morris caught Pierre by the shoulders and tugged him off balance, onto the toes of his boots. “You don't understand. I can't have this.” His hair stood at strange angles. Like he'd been tugging on it.

“What?” Pierre yanked himself back, and almost overcompensated onto his ass. He flailed forward, and nearly knocked Morris in the face.

Farmer stepped forward. “Why don't you two settle this somewhere else? You seem to have things to talk about.”

Morris chuckled, but his face seemed pained. His eyes a bit too wild for this scene. “I'm done. I'm ruined.” He turned, and quickly stepped through the front door of the remodeled Community Center.

Pierre followed after him. “Morris, what're you talking about?”

“It doesn't matter. None of this matters.” He went faster than Pierre had ever seen, from the center, down the slope, across the bridge, and into Joja Mart.

He stood still for a minute and tried to think. Had he done something? Should he follow? How would that look? He glanced over his shoulder, and saw a few people crowded around the doorway. Watching.

Judging.

Pierre ran towards the dreaded building that had become almost comfortable.

The door slid open, just the same way it always did. 

Morris was nowhere to be seen. The lights were off, even though the business itself seemed to still be open. “Morris! Come on. Let's talk.”

“It doesn't matter.” Morris stood from his Manager's chair, and stepped forward so the outside light could shine in. “I'm fired. They said if I couldn't somehow secure that warehouse, this location was no longer financially viable. And that I would no longer be an asset.”

“But it's not a warehouse, Morris.”

“I know that! And... I know everyone likes it better this way. You like it better this way. But... I find as much meaning in my job as you do. And I don't have one now. So what does that mean?” His face had never shown that before. A lopsided, desperate smile, and pained, tired eyes. Wrinkles twisted where Pierre had never noticed them, right above the upturned brows, and along the slope of round eyes.

The darkness brought it out.

Pierre stepped to the light switch and flipped them all on. “It's not the end, Morris.”

“Says who? You? You beat me, Pierre.”

“You think that's what I care about right now?” He shook his head and advanced. His boots resounded against the tiles in the otherwise silent store. 

“I would. If it were me.”

“Maybe a few years ago. But I don't think that's true anymore.”

“What do you know?” He laughed then, and slumped back into the seat, defeated and yet still mocking. “You're just a stupid man with a myopic view of how to run a store. You fall for most all of my tricks, and still... still you somehow get the upper hand, every time. And I just keep coming back, don't I? Seven years. Seven years, I was one of their most highly valued employees.” He grabbed his glasses and set them on the counter. Fingers rubbed at his temples, and palms hid his face. “You ruined that.”

“Did I?” He moved to Morris, and put two hands on his shoulders. They massaged lightly in rhythm to the rubs Morris worked on his forehead. “Would you change it, if you could go back two years?”

“...”

“Would you?”

“I suppose not. But it's horrible. How quickly I'm cast aside. But I saw it coming months on, did you know that?” He angled his head back and looked up at Pierre.

This was perhaps the first time he'd seen Morris without his glasses. Those eyes were somehow bigger, wider, richer. Pierre leaned down, and pressed a kiss to his lips, from above.

Morris hummed, and twisted in the roller seat, until he faced Pierre. “I don't know how to do anything but run a store.” He didn't look to Pierre anymore, but past him. Through him. “That's all I've ever done. Worked in one. Run one.”

“Well, they'll probably sell this place, right?”

“It's already just about slated. Joja is nothing if not efficient. That's why it's so big. I could always manage it before, but I've... been off. Not fast enough. Not good enough.”

“I've been meaning to expand. My living room's bigger than my store. Something about that doesn't seem right.”

Morris laughed, a bit higher than usual. It settled and he smiled up, with only barely tense lips. “And what do you mean by that?”

“I don't know how to expand though. That's always been the store. My father's store. And mine. If only I knew someone who might know how to work with a larger selection of stock.”

“Oh, if only.” Morris stood, and pulled Pierre closer. “But that person would likely not settle for anything less than full partnership.”

“I'd say that's a deal then. But you know what makes it official?”

“A contract?” Morris suggested.

Pierre eased his lips against Morris'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you thought of it, if you'd like! Thank you for taking the time to read this!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Dragon Mod over yonder http://stardew-nsfw-imagines.tumblr.com/ Send me and the other mods (midnight and scarlet) some prompts if you have an idea and wanna see it on the blog and here. ;)


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